Everybody Loves Kara
by Leighgion
Summary: Meet Bruce Wayne's new 'niece,' Kara. She's very happy to be in Gotham. Superman doesn't feel the same way, but who cares what he thinks? Kara sure doesn't. Neither does Kara.
1. She's Not Bothered

**Everybody Loves Kara**

**She's Not Bothered**

by Leighgion

**Gotham Eye**

**Mystery Blonde Warms Up New X-Ray Machines**

The unveiling ceremony of Gotham General's newly-renovated radiology wing was enlivened when billionaire Bruce Wayne, the primary contributor to the improvements, arrived at the proceedings with a young blonde beauty on his arm.

Mr. Wayne's dedication to charitable causes and the well-being of Gotham's citizens is well-known, and his opening statement will be nothing new to our readers. What was a surprise was that after finishing, he called upon his mystery companion to say a few words of her own, with no introduction outside of a gesture for her to take the floor, which she did with a nervous smile.

"Hello, my name is Kara and I'm here today because of radiation."

Kara's delivery wasn't polished, but her earnestness made it work and the line got a hearty laugh.

"I actually mean that literally. Out of respect for family privacy though, I can't talk about the details. I can't really talk about it at all really.. as Uncle Bruce well knows.. but he asked me to come anyway, because he said I was still a survivor and that in the end, that's what this new radiology wing is about; surviving both the disease and the treatment. I did, and I hope many others who come here for help will too."

With that vague, but affirming statement, Kara cut the ribbon to a round of applause more comparable to a wedding than the unveiling of a hospital wing. We'd all held it in out of respect, myself included, but every ear in the gathering had perked at 'Uncle Bruce.' Even long-time Wayne friend Dr. Leslie Thompkins, who was present for the ceremony, looked as surprised at the appearance of Kara as anyone else.

Uncle Bruce. What could it mean? It's well-known that Bruce Wayne is an only child and the tragedy of his young life revealed no blood relations. Could lost relatives somehow have escaped the scrutiny of a lifetime in the spotlight as Gotham's favorite son? Or perhaps not a blood connection, but a close friend that also somehow completely evaded the eye of the press? Kara's cryptic statements about family privacy certainly leave open either possibility.

The entire matter could of course, be fabrication for precisely the publicity it's generated, but all precedents in the public life of Mr. Wayne are against it. The bulk of his charity work has been extremely low key for such a well-known figure.

Whatever the truth is, inviting "Kara" to the opening was certainly a masterstroke on the part of Mr. Wayne as all of Gotham is abuzz about his mystery girl and she can't be mentioned without mentioning the new radiology wing. Grist for the rumor mill and attention for a good cause rolled into one; truly, Bruce Wayne is a master of philanthropy.

...

Once again, the Batcave was a scene. Flying at speeds that tailgated light waves, Superman was in Supergirl's face with a storm of righteous indignation before a blink could be finished.

"What's this about you _living_ here with your _uncle_?"

Batman decided it was better not to point out to the fuming Kryptonian that it was rude to storm into a secret headquarters without knocking. It had been agreed, Kara would handle this one. Turning up the audio dampening in his cowl to protect himself against deafness, the Dark Knight settled in his chair to watch the fireworks. The cave's surveillance systems would catch anything that might drop below the threshold of his ear protection.

"I like it here. I enjoy volunteering at the hospital and nobody's attacking me. I'd thought you'd be happy, Kal." She knew of course, he wouldn't be, but that was another matter.

Superman brandished a shredded mass of newsprint in his fist, barely recognizable from intact strips as an issue of the Gotham Eye.

"Have you read what the papers are saying about you?"

Unheard in the rising volume, Power Girl emerged from another chamber, set a brown paper & string wrapped parcel down and leaned against a console to watch the show.

Kara folded her arms and cocked her chin up defiantly.

"They say I'm charming, beautiful and good with the kids in the children's wing. Even the kids that weren't allowed to see Lord of the Rings like my Arwyn impression. None of them point my hair's the wrong color."

"I mean the _other_ things!" Superman punctuated by waving another paper so far pulped by Kryptonian strength as to be unrecognizable.

"Gotham Grapevine?" inquired Power Girl quietly at the Bat.

Batman just nodded. That paper always printed the most salacious rumors.

Kara snorted.

"Am I bothered?"

"They-"

"Do I look bothered? Look at this face. Is it bothered?"

"That's not-"

"Who told you I was bothered? Ask me if I'm bothered! Ask me if I'm bothered! Who told you I was bothered? Look. Face. Not. Bothered!"

The machine gun fire of words out of Kara's mouth finally derailed Superman, who paused in his attempts to get in a word edgewise. The two verbal combatants held the ceasefire for several moments, breathing hard, even if it was more out expression than need. Shooting a serrated look towards Batman, Superman tried to reclaim the initiative.

"Bruce..."

"You leave Uncle Bruce out of this! He takes good care of me!"

"He's not your uncle! And he has you parading around like a wh-arrgg..."

Even in his fit of indignation, Superman knew he'd gone too far, but even with the word bitten off, it was too late. Kara's eyes narrowed dangerously and the temperature in the cave plummeted from 'heated debate' to 'woman affronted.'

"Are you calling me a prostitute?"

"That's not.."

"Are you disrespecting me?"

"I-"

"Are you disrespecting my family?"

"He's not-"

"Are you calling my uncle a lecher?"

"Kara, calm-"

"Because he's not even a lecher!"

"-"

"Are you saying he only loves me for my cleavage? Because he's not even just a knocker man."

That silenced Superman, who turned a shade of green trying to process his cousin's frank assessment of her own feminine anatomy.

Power Girl shook her head. "That was totally uncalled for. You are so on your own next week, guy."

"Power Girl! But.."

"I don't even like her, but you're disrespecting your own cousin. What's next, asking permission of the eldest male to court? Re-instituting the bridal tax? I don't need to hang around this garbage."

".. what are even you doing here?" finished Superman, by this point rather put-upon.

"Not that it's any of your business, but 'Uncle Bruce's' company builds my supports."

Superman paused in confusion. Kara, radiating defiant triumph, took the opportunity to move to Batman's side.

"My bras, boy scout," clarified Power Girl with an eye roll. "You know, the things that.."

"I get it!"

"I'm not exactly easy to fit off the rack, you know."

"I.. aaarg, this isn't over, Bruce!" Cutting his losses, Superman retreated in the same fashion that he arrived, leaving a breeze in his wake.

Once the angry Kryptonian was gone, Batman tuned down his ear protection spun his chair to face the women.

"Handled that very well, Kara. Angry, but focused."

Supergirl beamed a smile and, basking in her victory, slide onto the arm of Batman's chair and wrapped an arm around him. Power Girl smirked.

"Sorry about that," said the Bat to Power Girl, "but I didn't know exactly when he'd show up."

"Oh that's okay. I'm totally not bothered."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** In the course of discovering has certain typography issues and compensating, my original author's notes have been at least thrice wiped out. I'll summarize: I said originally this story shall only very loosely follow current print continuity and the more I write, the less I think I'm going to use. This version of Kara arrived recently. That's about all that's sure. More as I write more


	2. Breakfast of Kryptonians

**Everybody Loves Kara II**

**Breakfast of Kryptonians**

by Leighgion

The space-time continuum is a confusing thing.

It was a fact known to few that Power Girl and Supergirl were, in actuality, both Kara Zor-El of Krypton. Whereas the former lived through her journey to Earth and arrived an adult woman and the bearer of the most famous bust in America since Jane Russell, the later slumbered through the long voyage to land a far younger girl more subject to the wills of others. Each had dwelled upon their own versions of Earth until upheavals of reality deposited both to exist together. The mind-bending nature of the matter drove most superhuman associates to treat Power Girl as a completely different individual. Superman, technically cousin to both, had taken the ostrich policy and pretended the issue didn't exist. Power Girl outright avoided her "other self" while muttering darkly in private that cosmic meaning and spiritual connection was overrated and best done without.

There were, of course, circumstances when it was inappropriate to refer to either by their costumed aliases and thus impossible to ignore that both bore the same name. Such was the case in Wayne Manor with the young Kara in permanent residence and the elder emerging once again through the secret clock door from the Batcave, as she was doing more and more often of late.

"Good morning, Ms. Kara. Shall you be joining young Miss Kara for breakfast?"

Fortunately for the Wayne household, the contortions of reality were not sufficient to flap the unflappable English manners of Alfred Pennyworth, who simply seized on established etiquette regarding differences of age and carried on.

"Good morning, Alfred. I.. suppose so."

"Very good. The scones are fresh and Miss Kara is just completing her morning Quenya practice."

"Her morning what?"

"Best you see for yourself, Ms. Kara."

Power Girl frowned, but in a testament to the soothing presence of Alfred, the fiery-tempered heroine remained silent as she followed the butler into the picture-windowed parlor where small breakfasts were generally taken.

"_Renich i lú i erui govannem?_"

The sultry recitation of the alien speech drifting through the doorway sent Power Girl's eyebrow rocketing into her bangs.

_You've got be shitting me..._

Shortly, the private sentiment was vindicated by the sight of the younger Kara, clad in a long and ruffled blue dressing gown, gazing dramatically upwards while punctuating her speech with heartfelt hand-clasping.

"_Telin le thaed_," she exclaimed soulfully. "_Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan na ngalad!_"

"Does 'Uncle Bruce' know you pour your immortal Elven soul out to his portrait first thing in the morning?" Power Girl folded her arms and leaned in the doorway. She wasn't devoted enough to have actually looked up the lines, but like most of the planet, Power Girl had seen the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy and unlike most of the planet, had an excellent memory even for fictional languages.

Caught off-guard, Supergirl flushed pink as she turned to face the interloper.

"My acting coach says I should use whatever is available to get into the right mood."

"You have an acting coach?"

"She came highly recommended."

"One of the city's finest, regularly employed by Gotham's Repertory Theatre Company these twenty years," interjected Alfred serenely as he lifted the lid on a platter, freeing the aroma of fresh blueberry scones. "Miss Kara is in good hands."

"Mmmhmm. I'm sure 'Uncle Bruce' wouldn't settle for anybody second rate."

Supergirl folded her arms and thrust up her chin, embarrassment now forgotten. She'd tried to avoid confrontation with Power Girl, but there in the sanctum of her new home, Kara felt less inclined to overlook her other self's thinly veiled belligerence.

"Uncle Bruce only wants the best. After all, wasn't I the one he asked to stay?"

Blindsided by Supergirl's sudden turnabout, Power Girl narrowed her eyes. She'd walked right into that one.

"Ladies, breakfast is served. Should you require anything else, I shall be in the east drawing room."

"Thank you, Alfred, that'll be all," said the two Kara's, more or less in unison.

The unintentional jinx put both of them even more on guard, but neither were willing to allow their private conflict to boil to the surface while under the watchful eye of Alfred's British propriety, lest the full disapproval of the butler's Queen's English be unleashed. Fixing each other with wary, leonine gazes, Supergirl and Power Girl stalked over to opposite sides of the table and began eating in silence.

To the credit of the baker, both women had to privately admit through their preoccupation that the scones were very good.

...

Cruising at 35,000 feet, Flight 252 winged its way towards Metropolis with 317 passengers on board.

Plus one on the wing - squeezed against the fuselage to stay out of sight both from the ground and the plane's side windows

Superman was, of course, more than capable of flying any distance on the planet, at any time of his choosing, at speeds far greater than any commercial aircraft, but he had very specific reasons for hitching a ride pressed against a 747. Two-five-two was a regularly scheduled shuttle flight, making its presence in the skies routine and the venerable airliner's massive body gave ample cover to conceal a lone Kryptonian from all but the most detailed scrutiny while the plane was in Gotham airspace.

Stealth and discretion were always more important than speed and convenience when dealing with the Batman.

After his disastrous confrontation in the Batcave that found him overwhelmed by Supergirl and unexpectedly flanked by Power Girl, Superman had to rethink his entire strategy. Clearly, the frontal assault wasn't going to work. It had been painfully demonstrated that Supergirl, while not being his equal in experience, was his peer in raw power and her will was not proving to be malleable to exercises of vocal authority. The memory still rankled him.

Superman took a breath to calm himself. The stick had failed miserably. It was time for the carrot.

But first, an opportunity had to come to meet.

Superman knew that even entering Gotham at this point was certain to bring down not only the wrath of the Batman, but that of the very girl he wanted to offer an olive branch to. Nothing a bulletproof man couldn't survive, but the point was to get Kara to see reason. No, he needed to catch Supergirl somewhere outside of Bruce's territory. Somewhere that Kara wouldn't be on the defensive so fast and more willing to listen. To do that though, Superman needed intelligence about her movements. Inching forward on his belly, the Kryptonian prepared to peek over the edge of the wing and focus his superhuman vision towards Wayne Manor.

That's when his communicator beeped.

...

Awash in cheerful golden sunlight, Wayne Manor's designated breakfast parlor was silent through the morning meal save for the clink of silverware and the gradually calming of young Kara and elder Kara's chewing. Once the food was gone, the tension in the air had relaxed considerably.

"Nice use of the Lauren Cooper defense last night," offered Power Girl as she set her napkin down.

"Thanks." Supergirl's lips twitched. "He really had no idea, did he?"

"Not a clue. He's not letting it go though, you know that. What you going to do?"

Supergirl grinned. "Nothing, because I'm not bothered."

Power Girl laughed.

...

Muttering at lousy timing 35,000 feet above Gotham, Superman answered his call.

"Superman here."

"Clark, you said barring an emergency, you'd stay for breakfast with me today. I've checked six news agencies and there's no emergencies mentioning you. I called Diana and she assures me that if the Earth was being invaded, she wouldn't be watching "The Catherine Tate Show." You're picking up, so I assume you haven't been kidnapped and nothing is trying to kill you. What's the deal?"

Superman winced. Lois had gone so far as to call Wonder Woman. That wasn't good.

"I'm sorry, Lois, I forgot. But I'm kind of in the middle of something here, can I..."

"You're spying on Kara, aren't you?"

"No! I mean, yes.. but.."

"You know I'm pretty sure stalking a cute blonde ingenue violates the spirit of our marriage vows, even if she is your cousin."

For the second time in as many days, Superman found himself reduced to sputtering.

"Seriously, Clark, I can't see how this is going to do any good. Granted, this whole 'Uncle Bruce' thing is weird and sudden, but this is Bruce Wayne, not Darkseid we're talking about. Kara's at least as bulletproof as you, maybe more, and she passed the Poison Ivy test that even you failed. The worst she's going to get in Gotham is a broken heart and that's assuming a whole hell of a lot. Unless you've got a major inside track on Bruce Wayne that I don't, so far there's nothing on this situation but the society pages and even they're being much kinder than you.

"Look, I know this is important to you, but you're not convincing anybody of anything in your state. Come home and we'll talk about it?"

For an instant, Superman considered revealing that Bruce Wayne was Batman, but even through the angry haze he was lucid enough to realize that the satisfaction would last only as long as it took for the words to come out of his mouth. Lois would no doubt then press the case that he should be happy Kara had attached one of his most trusted friends and allies. Sighing, he yielded defeat.

"I can make it back for brunch?"

"I'll see you soon."

Fuming quietly, Superman stowed his communicator and settled back down to wait until the plane was well beyond Gotham air space. If he had it all to do over again, Kara would go straight into an orphanage.

...

Shared laughter had cleared the air of the breakfast parlor, leaving Supergirl and Power Girl the most at ease they've ever been in each other's company. Cradling steaming cups, the two Kryptonians from different Earths relaxed over tea.

"So.. " said Supergirl tentatively, "don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here this early? He doesn't get up for at least another couple hours on the weekend unless there's an appointment he can't get out of."

"Mm, fair question. Here's the deal: since Bruce has a couple of his engineers designing and fabricating my bras, I do him a little favor. When I've got time, I sneak into the house through the cave entrance. I hang out for a while, have breakfast, pick on an outfit that screams 'retro sexy sweater girl' then leave by the front gate where the paparazzi can get a load of me. The dogs rush off to make up all kinds of stories about Bruce Wayne's semi-regular mystery blonde. They sell more rags to pay their rent and feed their little paparazzis, Bruce Wayne's rep as a degenerate ladies' man gets a boost and I get some free casual outfits on top of the bras. Everybody wins, and it all happens without Bruce even needing to get up."

"Wow, that's.. really smart."

"Yeah well, what can I say? Photographers love me. They're all worked up about you now too, so today ought to have a heavy turnout."

Supergirl tapped pensively at her cup. "We could use that. I could see you to the gate. Give them something new and interesting to guess about?"

"You and me work together, huh?"

"We could say we're sisters. Sisters don't have to like each other." After a moment, Supergirl added, "And they're always different people, no matter how much alike."

Power Girl nodded slowly. "You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you?"

Supergirl smiled serenely.

Power Girl set her cup down. "We'll talk. For now, let's go pick some outfits."

...

Barbara Gordon, better known as the Oracle, had seen happier days. Confined to her wheelchair, without her long-time field agent the Black Canary and engagement once again off, spare time had become the enemy of her peace of mind. Even breakfast, normally not a time of keenest thoughts, was a combined activity where coffee and toast was joined by parsing the latest satellite images. It was dull, mind-numbing work she generally never expected to yield much of interest, but it served its purpose of distraction. Landscapes changed only very slowly and even aircraft captured in flight started to all look the same. Still, it was some variation and Barbara zoomed in on what she knew to be Flight 252 bound for Metropolis...

.. only to come out of her daze of shock realizing she was on the verge of drooling her mouthful of toast and coffee onto her lap. Hastily swallowing, she reached for the her handset and tapped the well-worn speed dial. Barbara had avoided the awkwardness of calling her fiancé's father, plus it was a bit early to boot, but this was exceptional.

"Bruce? Barbara. Three guesses who was hitching a ride on the wing of Flight 252 over Gotham."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Thanks to all who left reviews! Your acknowledgment is my motivation.

Kara's Quenya lines were all spoken by Arwen in _Fellowship of the Ring_ and translate thusly:

"_Renich i lú i erui govannem?_"

"Do you remember when we first met?"

"_Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan na ngalad!_"

"I've come to help you. Hear my voice, come back to the light!


	3. Promises to the Knight

**Everybody Loves Kara III**

**Promises to the Knight**

by Leighgion

"Bruce, I know I'm hardly one to talk, but... do you know what you're doing?"

It was a risky move, being estranged from Bruce's adopted son and protégé as she was, but having broken silence to inform her old mentor of the Kryptonian spy over Gotham better known as Superman, Barbara Gordon was unable resist the query into the matter that was the talk of the town and beyond: Kara Zor-El, best known as Supergirl and the newest resident of Wayne Manor.

Unseen on the other end of the line, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, indulged in a rare smile.

...

_**Two Months Ago**_

To mortal ears, the Batcave was serenely silent save for the distant sound of dripping water, the rustle of tiny wings and the incidental sounds of the girl sitting and reading at the map table.

Kryptonian ears knew better. It was approaching. Too fast.

He had to be hurt.

"Alfred, come quick!"

Not waiting for a reply, Kara, best known to the world as Supergirl, released the intercom switch, leapt out of chair and kicked herself airborne. Rebounding off the high rock wall, she landed in a hard crouch on the opposite side of the narrowly-bridged chasm, arms spread and gaze focused on the tunnel.

There wasn't long to wait.

Heralded by a low roar and a rush of wind tainted with the scent of seared metal, the Batmobile charged out of the darkness an unstoppable steel shark.

The slight blonde girl in its path didn't flinch.

At the last moment, Kara started to throw herself backward, softening the force of impact. Only once she was crushed against the ridged grill, did Kara grip the grill and begin to fly in opposition to slow the runaway urban tank down. Kryptonian strength under a yellow star was more than sufficient to simply pluck the hulking vehicle off the ground, but not for a moment had Kara considered the option. The risk of inflicting additional injury whom she knew to be the machine's operator, however mild, was more than she was willing to bear. It was with the utmost care that the girl wielded her might to bring the rampant Batmobile to a stop.

"Open!" she called out urgently in mid-vault onto the smoking metal juggernaut.

The automated systems, programmed to acknowledge Kara, failed to respond. Titanium steel plate, able to shrug off heavy armor-piercing shells, ruptured like tissue paper under the Kryptonian's hands as Supergirl punched her fingers through in several strategic spots she knew would sever the locking mechanisms. Yanking the liberated hatch open, Kara's nostrils were assailed by the scent of scorched earth and kevlar. It was the sight however, that made her pause.

The Dark Knight was slumped over the steeling column, one hand's steely grip still on the wheel while the other clutched at his side. His cape and cowl were smeared with a coating of brownish clay that even in such minute quantities, scintillated with a lingering, unnatural animacy.

Kara scanned the Batman with her penetrating vision, numbly noting the definite head trauma, broken ribs, first-degree burns on his lower face and the collection of bruises, especially around his throat.

Her hands clenched into injuries were serious, but not immediately life-threatening. Alfred would be there soon to look after his master. It would be child's play for her to fly out through the tunnel and retrace the Batmobile's path. Hunt the culprit down and vent wrath upon him. The clay monster would be no match for her. She'd...

She'd promised otherwise.

Relaxing her hands with a soft sigh, Kara leaned in to gently extract the wounded, unconscious champion of Gotham.

Alfred arrived in time to behold a mournful Supergirl floating through the air with the Batman, easily twice her size, cradled protectively in her arms.

...

_Whom forbycause Pygmalion saw to leade theyr lyfe in sin Offended with the vice whereof greate store is packt within The nature of the womankynd, he led a single lyfe. And long it was ere he could fynd in hart to take a wyfe. Now in the whyle by wondrous Art an image he did grave Of such proportion, shape, and grace as nature never gave..._

Kara trailed off reading when Alfred quietly appeared in the doorway to the master bedroom. Closing her book, she soundlessly floated away from the slumbering Bruce Wayne's bedside and out into the hallway to confer quietly with the loyal manservant.

"The Golding translation of Ovid's _Metamorphosis_, Book Ten. A most unusual choice for bedside reading, Miss Kara."

Kara smiled wanly and glanced at the volume in her hands.

"It seemed right, somehow. He seems so alone sometimes. Just like Pygmalion." She glanced back towards the bedroom. "But his gods haven't taken pity on him and brought his dreams to life."

"I would beg to differ, Miss Kara. It's not every convalescing loner who has a nursemaid willing to sit with him around the clock, read him Roman poetry in proto-modern English and is so considerate that she never allows her feet to touch the ground for fear of disturbing his rest."

The girl blushed lightly pink and looked down at her bare toes, which true to Alfred's observation, were several inches above the floorboards. His point amply made, the butler carried on with aplomb.

"I assume Master Bruce's condition is unchanged."

"He.. hasn't woken, no."

"Master Bruce has endured worse, and it is still early. But I came to tell you Master Timothy has returned and awaits you below."

Kara took a breath and put on her brave face.

"Thank you, Alfred. Tell him I'll be back soon as I can." That said, Kara handed her book to the butler and floated off towards the stairs. Even in flight, she had taken to moderating her speed inside the manor to that of a brisk jog to avoid creating too much air turbulence. With Kara gone, Alfred looked towards the master bedroom and managed a quiet smile.

"You'd better believe her, Master Bruce. You're not getting rid of this one so easily."

...

Once down in the cave, Kara allowed her feet to touch the earth again and approached in conventional fashion. Tim Drake, clad as Robin, was already pouring over the Batman's recently battle-damaged cape.

"Tim!"

"Kara! How is he?"

Tim paused his work to greet Kara, who pressed his hands in hers.

"Some burns. Ribs. Blow to the head. Nothing too bad, but.."

"But he's not fighting anything tougher than a veal chop for at least a week."

Kara nodded solemnly and glanced towards the opening to another chamber.

"I'd put him in the machine, but.. it's not quite optimized for Terran bodies and I promised the first time would be his decision."

"Damn stubborn Bruce."

"You can't fight Clayface alone, Tim."

"You don't have to tell me twice. Last time it took me, Bruce and Ivy together."

"I could."

"You promised..."

"I know! And I mean to keep my word."

"Arg, this is terrible timing! Dick and Barbara just split up again so both of them are incommunicado. It'd take at least a day to raise either of them."

Both heads turned to the cape and cowl laid out on the table.

"Was this time revenge or something else?"

"Definitely something else. The showdown happened outside of Wayne Chemicals' dockside warehouse. I checked the police band and the Batmobile's black box. It looks like Bruce caught Clayface ready to bust the doors. Details are sketchy, but even though Bruce limped back here licking his wounds, it seems like Clayface had to bolt and didn't get in. There's something in there he wants though."

While Tim explained, Kara's gaze had wandered thoughtfully over the various items displayed in the cave, eventually coming to rest on specific artifact.

"Tim, I think I can give you what you need."

"You wouldn't be the first girl to say that," quipped Tim. When he followed her gaze though, he blinked. "You can fix that thing?"

"Give me an hour. I'll learn."

...

Basil Karlo, the ultimate Clayface, hated winter.

His morphic clay body was effectively immune to the ordinary human concerns of exposure, but the cold was nevertheless very disagreeable, penetrating him in a way that hadn't been true of normal flesh. Even bundling up while shapeshifted into an innocuous human form, as he was now, wasn't as effective as in the old days. Using his flames would provide warmth of course, but that wasn't possible while keeping a low profile.

But, at least the Batman wouldn't be troubling him tonight. The thought put a smile on Karlo's imitation face as he made his way along the largely abandoned docks towards the Wayne Chemicals warehouse. While only a day had passed since his battle with the Batman there, the police patrol, if any on such a frosty night, was sure to be cursory. Disguised as a patrolman as he was, it would be child's play to get through.

Indeed, as Karlo walked down the appropriate pier, his target appeared completely abandoned. Pausing at the yellow police-taped door to savor his luck, Karlo's mood was broken by the voice of a young man nearby.

"Hey, Mr. Karlo, spare a minute for an autograph? I'm a big fan."

"Name's not Karlo, kid..." Karlo's surprise broke his facade. Wrapped in his cape against the chill, the Batman's current protégé stood nearby in the shadow of the warehouse, toying carelessly with a notepad and pen thrust through the spiral binding. Robin smiled and tapped his eyepiece.

"Nice try, but no cop in Gotham has a body temperature low as yours. If you're not a Clayface, you're a vampire or a zombie. Either way, I want that autograph."

Giving up the facade, Karlo smiled savagely.

"You're a credit to your master, boy."

"I get that all the time."

"But you're alone tonight. Best stay stand aside."

"How about that autograph and we'll call it even?

With that, Robin clicked his pen and flung the pad and pen together at Clayface.

Puzzled at the unexpected and inscrutable move, Karlo was still rooted to the spot when the booby-trapped pen & pad exploded in flames in his face. Bellowing in surprise and anger, Karlo began to instinctively revert to his clay form.

That's when Robin shot him with the freeze gun.

True to her word, Kara had divined the inner mechanisms of Victor Fries' salvaged weapon and not only affected repairs, but boosted its output exponentially at the cost component life and operational cycle. By the time the gun sputtered out after fourteen seconds, Clayface was frozen solid and even in the dry winter air, had managed to be entombed in several inches of ice.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Robin dropped the frost-encrusted weapon back into the fleece bag he'd carried it in and tapped his communicator.

"Goldilocks, this is Little Bird. The Pillsbury Doughboy is on ice. I'm on my way back to the cottage." After a pause, he added, "Hands off my porridge. It's cold out here tonight!"

...

The news that Tim had neutralized Clayface without incident was a relief but, Kara still felt restless. She'd spent the evening reading _The_ _Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ aloud to the still-unconscious Bruce Wayne and afterward floated silently the entire night by his bedside. As soon as the girl deemed the hour reasonable, she replaced reading with a recital of the best of her Quenya.

_A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míiriel o menel aglar elenath... Na-chaered palan-díriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon nef aear, sí nef aearon..._

As Kara finished the brief, melancholy song, the slumbering man began to stir.

Smiling brightly at the signs of life, Kara allowed her feet to alight on the floorboards at last and, after quickly giving Alfred a silent, prearranged signal via the house's flexible intercom system, she busied herself pouring a glass of water from the ready carafe.

Having been beaten into convalescence more times in his life than he could count, Bruce's subconscious was well-adapted to the process of recovery. Knowing he was in his own bed and safe, Bruce accepted the water Kara offered to his lips without even opening his eyes. It took a good minute before the career vigilante's bleary consciousness absorbed the fact it was Kara, not Alfred, who was attending to him.

"Hello," she said, her soft smile unrelenting.

"Kara. How.."

"About eighteen hours."

"Clayface.." Bruce made an attempt to rise that, even without Kara's firm hand on his shoulder, was doomed to failure.

"Shh.. you have broken ribs. Don't worry, Tim's taken care of things."

"Tim.." Bruce blinked once, two more layers of consciousness suddenly crashing on him. "Tim's taken care of Clayface?"

"I fixed up one of your toys for him. Piece of cake!"

Bruce tried to form another question, but surrendered and accepted the refilled glass of water that Kara offered him. Shortly, Alfred arrived with a light breakfast of broth and toast. Questions were put aside.

...

"Bruce?"

"Yes, Kara?"

"When I came to live here, I made the promises you asked for. No interference in your night life. No using my powers openly or in secret to do what you while I'm within Gotham. No revelations about where I'm from. I've never asked you why."

"I've appreciated that."

"In order for me to keep my promise, Tim had to risk his life against Clayface alone. I need to ask you now, Bruce. Why? Why won't you let me help you?"

For a long moment, Bruce said nothing. When he spoke again, it was in a carefully measured tone unlike his usual dismissive growl when pressed with uncomfortable questions about his reasons.

"You probably think you're the strongest being in this city by far, Kara. You'd be right. Clayface would have been no match for you. Ivy's synthetic Kryptonite-enhanced pheromones didn't have any effect on you either. But do you think you could sweep Gotham clean in a few days and save it?"

"I.. well, no. From what I've seen, others would come."

"Yes. Others would come knowing it was a Supergirl instead of a Batman protecting Gotham. What sort do you think that was attract? Petty smugglers, or alien conquerors?"

Kara frowned pensively. The pieces were falling into place.

"Kara, you mean well. I know that. But consider Metropolis: the people there think they're lucky to have your cousin, a Superman, protecting them. On one hand, they're right. I can't stop a collapsing bridge or melt guns with just a look like he can. But on the other.. a Superman attracts enemies that are his peers. How much has Metropolis suffered in collateral damage from the likes of Mongul? Brainaic? Maxima? Even Luthor. Now, imagine Metropolis without Superman. How much would that city suffer from the revenge of Superman's enemies? How much as it already?"

Bruce sighed softly. Kara's frown vanished and she reached out to take his hand in comfort, as she saw the explanation become partly an expression of frustration for the Dark Knight. Calmer, Bruce continued.

"Metropolis exists in balance because even though he's built up many enemies, Clark's dedicated his life to being its protector. Gotham's balance is very different with me watching over it. The bottom line, Kara, is that Gotham could survive losing me. I don't think it could so easily survive losing you. You read my files on that incident with the Swamp Thing."

"Yes. That all makes sense."

Bruce paused and looked at Kara. That had been unexpected. The girl gave him a soft smile.

"I'm not stupid, Bruce. I know you don't really believe that I'm here to stay, especially since Cousin Kal doesn't know yet. Well, I'm going to show you I'm not going anywhere. Confession time!

"While you were knocked out, I broke the lock on your car but I didn't drive it anywhere!"

In spite of the somber discussion and pain from his ribs, Bruce Wayne couldn't help but laugh.

...

_**The Present**_

"Bruce, you there?"

Bruce, still smiling, shook off the memories to reply.

"Barbara, I've taken in a charming, intelligent and lovely young lady who has kept all her promises, is in essence invulnerable to most of Gotham's physical hazards and, in defiance of all common sense, has become very devoted to me. Whether she ends up being my ward, something more or even leaving tomorrow, I count myself a very lucky man. Yes, I'm quite sure I know what I'm doing. Can you say the same?"

"I'll be in touch, Bruce."

"Be seeing you."

Barbara knew when she was beaten. She hung up quick as she could.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Keep those reviews coming! ;)

Kara's song in Quenya, from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ translates thusly:

O Elbereth who lit the stars, from glittering crystal slanting falls with light like jewels from heaven on high the glory of the starry host. To lands remote I have looked afar, and now to thee, Fanuilos, bright spirit clothed in ever-white, I here will sing beyond the Sea, beyond the wide and sundering Sea


	4. A Matter of Support

**Everybody Loves Kara IV**

**A Matter of Support**

by Leighgion

Hal Jordan, Green Lantern of Earth, looked around at his teammates, minus two, assembled in his living room. Without preamble, he threw down the morning's issue of _The Gotham Grapevine_ on the coffee table for all to see. There was a mixed chorus of nervous laughter from the gathering as they took in the front page story.

The front page photograph had captured Kara in a Monroe-esque pose, holding her skirt down against a sudden gust of wind that sent her golden hair aloft as she stepped out of a limousine. The bold headline above read:

**Wayne's Itch For a Lemon Tart**

The laughter cut off abruptly when Wonder Woman dropped the satellite images on the table.

...

"So, I'm lying there pinned under a chunk of city hall that I could just shove off of me, if I could uncross my arms. Which I couldn't, since my top was shredded from that last blast of the muon cannon and there was a crowd that included people with cameras. Naturally, it's not Atom Smasher, Captain Marvel or anybody who can lift the wreckage for me that shows up first..."

While Power Girl talked and sifted through the loaded rack of sweaters, Supergirl sat on the bed and looked around the room. Wayne Manor was enormous and, even given her superhuman speed, she had for several reasons chosen to experience it gradually. Kara had been unaware until that morning that not only had one room been designated as Power Girl's for years, but it was stocked with an extensive, constantly updated wardrobe as well. The young Kara wandered over to idly poke at the covers the bed. To human eyes, every bed in the manor looked fresh, but deeper secrets were revealed to Kryptonian eyes: the bed hadn't been slept in for a very long time.

"... there I was, just lying there in the rubble with Batman standing over me. Of course, he can't get me clear, but there's people watching so he comes out with a, 'You look like you could use some support,' whips out what's left of my cape and covers me up so I can get free."

"Couldn't you have kicked the wreckage off?"

"Did I mention the Ultra-Humanite didn't design his cannon to spare bottoms either?"

Supergirl coughed.

"So what happened next? Your cape isn't very big."

"No, and it was a fair bit smaller by then. I had to leave holding my cape against the front while he wrapped his cape around behind. Not my proudest hour, but it kept me covered."

"So that's how it started!"

"That's how. Week later I'm getting a torso cast. 'The other kind of support,' he called it. Didn't seem weird by that point for him to offer me custom bras. Red sweater or green?"

"Red. He's not much one for talking, is he?"

"Not him."

"Man of action."

"Definitely."

"He sees, makes a decision, then goes for it."

"Pretty much."

"You must be very special to him."

"Sorry?"

"I have to admit, I'm a little jealous."

Power Girl turned, shot Supergirl a puzzled look, then laughed.

"I don't know what ideas you got, kid, but it's not like that. Hell, I hardly see him couple minutes a month, if that. Last night was a fluke. I only stopped for the show. And all this... " the elder Kara made a sweeping gesture at the packed closet, "it's nothing to him. He's spent more on you already, I'm sure."

Supergirl smiled.

"The man who doesn't even like any other masks visiting the city without his permission gave you a room in his house and lets you come and go whenever you want."

"He gave you the same."

"You were the first by years. And he makes you bras! He doesn't do that for anybody else!"

Power Girl just muttered. That was an unassailable fact. Supergirl, scenting the weakness, pressed her advantage.

"He's the only man in the world that offered you custom-made bras. He must have really liked what he saw, mm?"

Power Girl flushed pink and gritted her teeth.

"I thought you said he wasn't a knocker man."

"I said he wasn't _just_ a knocker man."

Power Girl snorted.

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be his little lemon tart?"

Supergirl hrmphed.

"I wouldn't mind at all, but he's been a perfect gentleman. I think his eye is on a bigger dessert."

"Yeah, sure. News to me."

"You were news to me too. Until last night, I had no idea you were so close to him. He never talks about you, you know. The same way he never talks about his parents, his training before he became Batman and all those other things that are more important than anything else."

"You're reaching."

"You don't use his name when he's not here."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Neither do I."

"Your point?"

"I didn't start doing that until I loved him."

"Oh give me a..."

"Karen." For the first time, Supergirl used Power Girl's adopted Terran name. "We're different, but all the years of our lives were the same until the rocket. I know you better than you think."

"What's your game, Kara?"

"You said yourself I'd do anything for him. Well, I would. I'd even give him up to a bigger lemon tart.. if she'd treat him right."

"I am not a lemon tart!"

"How about a lemon pie?"

Power Girl fell silent.

"Just.. don't go this time. Stay for lunch with him."

"He'll say no."

Kara smiled and hopped to her feet.

"Let's just get an outfit picked out for you and let him decide that."

Half an hour later, an edgy Power Girl saw herself in the mirror still wearing the same taut red sweater with a black leather skirt. Supergirl, swimming in an entirely too large, essentially identical outfit culled from Power Girl's closet, beamed beside her.

"There are many copies!"

"If only they had a plan."

"We have a plan. You're going to walk out there and have lunch with him while I get Tim out of the house for a while."

"Kara, if I lose my supply of bras over this..."

"I promise, if somehow he picks me over you, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

"Terrific. Just so we're clear, I am _not_ dancing barefoot at your wedding."

"You're funny. By Gotham standards, you've practically been his wife for years. Just need to get him to admit it!"

Power Girl fumed. She couldn't deny there were twenty-year marriages among the Gotham elite that were even more remote than her vague alliance of convenience with the Batman. She'd lost count now of how many custom-designed and built brassieres that WayneTech's "Section D" had produced for her. It wasn't sexy lingerie, but it was a great deal more personal than the bankers, politicians and old money that just signed off on their wives' credit card bills.

"I suppose he _is_ smart, handsome, rich and kind to widows and orphans."

"Especially the orphans."

"Very funny."

...

The sun was high in the sky by the time Bruce Wayne emerged from the sanctum of his quarters for lunch. Unusually, Alfred was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Master Bruce."

"Afternoon, Alfred. Something on your mind?"

"Indeed, sir. I owe you an apology."

Bruce paused at that. His detective's brain strained, but not a thing was coming to mind between the Dark Knight as his faithful butler that would call for apology. If had been anyone else, Bruce would suspect a trick. Even though it was Alfred, a more benign trick couldn't be ruled out, so he leaned on the bannister and, with a more polite rendition of wariness, gave his old friend his attention.

"Okay?"

"Surely it cannot have escaped your notice that over the years, I have been less than approving of your treatment of members of the fair sex with whom you had any chance of forging a more lasting relationship."

"That's occurred to me, yes."

"The matter of Ms. Kyle of course, bears first mention. There was chemistry even while you were casual adversaries during her many burglaries. You are of course, not wholly to blame that nothing came of it, but you were always content to play foil and never press your case with her. Such a mercurial woman is not likely to ask for any commitments if offered none and, while it may be for the best, I do believe the last window of opportunity for you in her regard has passed."

"I see."

"Then there is Ms. Talia, whom I've concluded you simply wield as an implement against her father. Though I have grave reservations, given the situation I suppose I understand, but that effectively doomed a future with her, no matter how strong her devotion to you. I believe she was worth the gamble it would have taken, but you have never been one to take those risks."

"Alfred..."

"You know that even Ms. Isley harbors some affection for you, which as I understand she is not shy about. I would not have advocated courting her per se, on account of her obvious instabilities, but treating her a little more warmly could have cultivated a much more affable enmity more akin to that you had with Ms. Kyle and tempered some of her more extreme behavior as 'Poison Ivy.' Given those circumstances, who knows what the possibilities would have been? I believe she was genuinely grateful that you rescued her from Clayface."

Bruce coughed uncomfortably.

"I must say though, the true pity was Ms. Bordeaux. She grew to know you from the other side and I'd had such hopes when you began to allow her in. While a strong and capable woman, she was much more willing than the others to do things your way, given that you were her guide into the underworld. Granted, larger events intervened, but you really could have made more of an effort, sooner, to mend matters afterward."

"I swear you started this off saying something about an apology."

"I am getting to that, sir. It seems, I must give credit where credit is due as despite your numerous failures in this arena, your unorthodox methods have yielded results from a quarter that even I never suspected. Clearly, you have coaxed out a dark horse, so to speak. My hat is off to you."

"If it'll make you feel better, I'll accept your apology, but I have no idea what you're talking about, Alfred. This can't be about Kara."

"Thank you, sir, and no, I do not refer to Miss Kara. But I think you shall find lunch more.. stimulating.. than usual. Everything is in readiness, so if I might be excused, Master Timothy has inquired about certain items of a musical nature."

Still mystified, Bruce just nodded and parted ways with his manservant. True to Alfred's word, there was a surprise waiting at the lunch table. Across the usual table, with her place neatly set, sat Kara Zor-L, aka Karen Starr, aka Power Girl.

Power Girl and Batman's professional association was very limited. Bruce Wayne and Karen Starr's was arguably even more limited, as officially they had only met in the most passing of ways. Ever the detective though, Bruce had gathered a fair impression of Karen's personality. Stubborn, willful and confident, Karen Starr wasn't the sort to fret over her appearance or be socially nervous.

Bruce's practiced eye noted Karen's carefully brushed hair, her selection of a relatively demure, but flattering red sweater and her choice of Section D's most low-profile support design. Noteworthy also was that Karen was looking at him just a little too steadily, almost belligerently.

There was no mistake. Karen had fretted over her appearance and made an effort.

For him.

Karen was nervous.

About lunch with him.

In usual fashion, Bruce's brain processed all of this information with precision and, with the subject being his relationship with a woman, vacated the premises leaving behind only the observation that Alfred had, for Alfred's standards told the truth. Far as the butler was concerned, it was _Ms._ Kara at the table, not young _Miss_ Kara.

"Karen. Hi."

"Bruce. Thought I'd stay for lunch this time."

"Ah."

"If that's alright with you."

"Sure."

Against her will, Karen's lips insisted on smiling.

Distracted by the sudden turn of events, Bruce tripped on the way to his chair.

Acting on instinct, Karen's Kryptonian speed came to the fore. In the blink of an eye and a rush of air, she darted out of her chair, around the table and caught Bruce with one arm around his waist and a hand on his arm. A heartbeat later, both froze as they realized their position.

Bruce Wayne as a rule resented such abrupt intrusions into his personal space and his instinct was retaliation, but the circumstances were not normal. He was keenly aware that while Karen's practiced rescue grip was gentle, that it was quite capable of shattering stone and deforming steel. A physical response simply wasn't viable as his years of training were telling him in Karen's current mode, that any sudden move on his part was only going to make her hold on tighter, and there was no technique on the planet he could leverage to break that iron grip.

Karen also was rather easy to look at. And be pressed up against. The combination left him at a loss and it was all Bruce could do to just keep as dignified an air as he could.

For her part, Karen's brain was flailing wildly for a way to let go without verbally acknowledging that she was effectively hugging the Batman in the privacy of his home and that it really wasn't bad. Her mental grasping was shortly rewarded with a straw.

"Ribs still bothering you?"

"Must be."

Neither moved.

"Karen?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go now."

"Right."

Neither moved.

"I'm okay, really."

"Right. Letting go."

...

Many miles away, brunch had gone well on the culinary level. The melon was especially fresh. The matter discussed over brunch hadn't faired nearly as well. After more than an hour of denials, circular logic and maddening vagueness, Lois rubbed her temples and attempted to salvage what she could.

"OK, Clark, let me get this straight.. leaving aside there's a secret about the situation you can't share.. you admit it's not possible that Kara's being forced to do anything against her will, that she's an adult according to both human and Kryptonian standard and has all the associated rights to do what she wants, but you are still so totally against the situation you feel justified in using commercial airlines to sneak into Batman's turf, violating not just your cousin's privacy but all of Wayne Manor's with your X-ray vision, and generally scheming to corner Kara alone so you can carry on with the losing fight to convince her to listen you?"

Clark Kent, better known as Superman, folded his arms defensively.

"I wouldn't put it quite that way, but yes. This just isn't acceptable."

"You are so on your own, Smallville. Just do me one favor?"

"Anything I can."

"Please go and save some treed cats or something? You're wound tighter than the city budget."

"I'm fine."

"Your fork isn't."

Clark guiltily opened his fist and watched the ruined remains of his flatware clatter to the table.

"I think I hear a tabby in a maple tree calling my name."

"Just don't squeeze the cat like the fork, okay?"

...

Having managed to untangle themselves and actually sit down to start lunch, Karen and Bruce found they had much in common.

"So."

"So."

Neither of them were talkative over meals.

"How's Tim?"

"Doing better."

"That's good."

"The Society treating you alright?"

"It's okay."

Neither were good with small talk in general, really.

"Do feel like I don't fit in a lot of the time though, you know?"

"That's why I mostly work alone."

Karen paused and toyed with her fork as she eyed her lunch companion through her eyelashes. Even lacking Alfred's knowledge, Karen's time coming and going from Wayne Manor had given her insight into Bruce Wayne/Batman's tenuous relationship with the opposite sex. She knew that many worthwhile, and far more determined, women had come before her and failed to win a lasting place at his side. Having only recently being cajoled by Kara into admitting even the possibility of an attachment, Karen was by no means certain a lasting place, or any place other than what she had, was what she wanted.

There was, however, something about the tragic, wounded man quietly looking at his salmon instead of her, that galvanized Karen's resolve. Instinctively, she felt that having come this far and standing on the shoulders of Kara's willing sacrifice that it would be a grave moral failure to finish the meal without doing her utmost to form at least enough of a connection to prove an affable companion, even if was only for the duration of lunch. Charm and affability were not Karen's strong suites.

But she had other inside advantages.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Section D's been doing a really great job."

"They're some of my best engineers."

"I'm sure they are, but they've done a lot more than you know. A lot more than they had to really, since they worked up all their designs assuming I didn't have any powers. Bruce, we could help a lot of women with these designs."

That got his attention. Bruce looked up, as if really noticing Karen for the first time since the meal began. Sensing the opening, Karen pressed on.

"There's a lot of jokes at my expense, but the fact is it's not so bad for me. I'm more than strong and resilient enough that I don't get any back problems or.. well, other gravity-related issues from this body. If I wasn't Kryptonian though?"

"Back problems." Bruce frowned darkly. He had a special empathy for back problems, especially after his experience with Bane.

"Terrible, painful back problems for a lot of women and not many options."

"What did you have in mind?"

"If you don't own any companies that make women's clothing, you could license the designs."

"There's probably a few patents in them. We should offer the engineers a cut before filing."

"Naturally."

"I'd hate to lose any of them, but a couple might jump at a change of pace. Can offer a leave of absence for any of them that want to help get the new line off the ground."

"Sounds very reasonable."

"How do you feel about being a spokesmodel?"

"I could be convinced."

Energized by the prospect of a new way of helping people that wouldn't cost him any blood or injuries, Bruce pushed his plate aside and spread out his napkin as an impromptu drawing surface.

"I've got an idea for the ad campaign. It's a little risky, but hear me out, alright?"

_I owe this all to my rack. Who knew?_

Karen smiled and gave her attention.

This time, Bruce didn't trip.

...

The gathering of the Justice League, sans Superman and Batman, had sobered into a shocked silence at the juxtaposition of Kara's unintentional channeling of Marilyn Monroe in both poise and scandal potential with the spy photos from orbit that clearly showed Superman lying on the wing of a passenger airliner over Gotham.

Roy Harper, the Red Arrow, was the first to hesitantly break silence.

"Lemon tart. That's harsh."

Wonder Woman sighed.

"Lois called me, at the Themiscyran Embassy, to ask if Earth was being invaded, since Clark wasn't where he promised he would be. These pictures were on the Embassy servers by the time I was off the phone. Now we know where he was."

Diana was interrupted by the Black Canary.

"Look, we all know what's going to be up for vote. Clark and Bruce of all people are on collision over a little blonde. Does anybody here have the slightest doubt that the answer is 'yes?' Kendra? Jeff? Mari? Hal?"

A chorus of negatives rippled over the little group. In spite of the situation, Diana smiled.

"Good enough. The unannounced motion passes unanimously.

"Hera help us, the Venus Protocols are now in effect.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** After a multi-year hiatus, finally I catch onto needed typography fixes.


End file.
